In The Shadows of an Empire
by Mirai Trunks
Summary: Not every Jedi was murdered in the Great Purge. These are the tales of a fortunate few who escaped annihilation, and how they now face a galaxy that wants them dead.
1. Dancing to Live

**In The Shadows of An Empire.**

This is the first chapter in a multi-part series that tells the tales of Jedi who somehow survived the Jedi Purge, and what their life is now like. Enjoy.

**Dancing to Live.**

She can't believe it had come to this. But then again, she didn't know what to believe anymore… not since _it_ happened.

Nar Shadaa.

She had been lucky to find refuge in one of the seedier parts of town, not that there really wasn't any part of this whole planet that _wasn't_ seedy. At present time, she found employment in the aptly named _Tawdry Merc_ as one of the many dancers who performed night after night for the always boisterous crowd of spacers, bounty hunters, smugglers, and others of a similar ilk. It wasn't always this way. It was never meant to be this way.

She had once been Jedi Padawan Sarai Yayhu, apprenticed to Jedi Master Ora Baanah. She had been one of several thousand members of an illustrious Jedi Order that spanned millennia, that was almost as old as the galaxy was itself. Now all that was gone, burnt to ashes, never to be seen again.

With pulsing lights flashing across the room, and thumping synthe music threatening to burst her eardrums, Sarai – or Adina, as she was now known – swung around a pole, landing in a crouch before the excited spectators. She swayed to one side, then the other, before spinning on her heel, thus revealing her thong clad rear to the audience. She stood, and a loud cheer let out when she spread her feet apart and jut her hip right then left in a rhythmic pattern.

She still remembers that fateful day. The war was supposed to be over. Skywalker and Kenobi, the amazing, unstoppable duo, had rescued the Supreme Chancellor from the grips of the fiendish General Grievous, and even managed to slay the traitorous instigator of the whole conflict, Count Dooku. Then _it_ happened. _Order Sixty-Six_. Those words will forever ring in her ears as a never-ending nightmare… words that she wishes were never uttered.

She and Master Baanah had been part of the Jedi team directing the Republic forces on the planet Ithor. The peaceful Ithorians had stayed out of the fight for the most part, and mainly assisted the clone brigades stationed there with tactical readouts of the vast forests that covered the planet as well as technological support when needed. They, along with the Quarren Jedi Master Poz Weru, his Yarkora apprentice Vulyt, and the Duros Jedi Knight Grahn Koj were basically overseeing the final stages of the Republic's victory, and the handing over of control back to the Ithorian Planetary Council. This of course meant that the last remnants of the Separatist droid armies were being destroyed, and that a vast multitude of clone troopers were swarming the planet. It was the perfect set up. Sarai still couldn't believe that her venerable Master Baanah hadn't foreseen the outcome. She recalls seeing the clone commander, a man – no, not even that, a man couldn't do what he did – named Tal, receive a holo-transmission from some robed figure. She was out of earshot, and failed to pick up what the message had been.

Out of no where, blue blaster bolts had ripped through Grahn Koj. As his smoking corpse fell to the ground with a voiceless scream, the others had ignited their sabers and leapt backward to distance themselves from their attackers. Then the barrage of deadly beams of energy opened up on them. Poor Vulyt, who, due to his large size was an easy target, was the second Jedi to fall that day. Master Weru, anguished over the loss of his Padawan, yelled for Master Baanah and Sarai to flee while he provided for their escape. There was no time to argue. As they fled, Master Weru leapt forward, hand outstretched in a massive force push, scattering the clone troopers into disarray. After cutting down dozens of white-armored traitors, he, too was overwhelmed, and joined the Force.

Sarai – Adina approached the edge of the stage and bent over, shaking her ample bust above the heads of some spice miners. The mesh top she wore did little to conceal anything, and she blushed slightly at having to degrade herself in such a manner. She wasn't sure it could get any worse than this… which it could, in actuality. Adina once overheard some of the other dancers discussing how they had also taken job opportunities in the prostitution profession, not far from where she now cavorted on stage. She cringed inwardly at the horrid thought.

Sarai had always been self conscious about her body while at the Jedi Temple. The awkwardness began when she hit twelve, and her curvy figure had begun to develop. Suddenly, all her male friends, particularly the other humans, began to become uneasy around her, as if something was distracting them. When Master Baanah had taken Sarai as her apprentice, she had done her best in the way of offering advice about the situation.

"Every part of a woman's body has been designed with a function in mind," she used to say. Sarai knew that her womanly features were biologically meant to produce and nurture offspring, but as a Jedi, she knew she would never have that experience. Why then, she would ask, should she have these "hindrances" to her mission in life as a servant of the Republic?

"Everything's purpose will be revealed in time, as the Force wills," was her master's response. Sarai wished she had prodded her master more about the subject when she had the chance… She still remembered her teenage years, especially one particular incident when she was sparring hand-to-hand with another Padawan. They were both 17 at the time, and Sarai had noticed the usual feeling of airiness about her opponent as soon as the match had begun. Although he was the physically stronger of the two, she seemed to be having her way with him, landing blow after blow. Finally, upon reversing his grapple, she wrapped her arms around his neck in preparation for a submission hold. He immediately signaled his admittance of defeat. She realized what had happened, and tried to apologize to him, but he mumbled a quick reply and exited the training area hastily.

_I can't believe this is what Master Baanah had meant about purposes being revealed_, she thought to herself. For one, this was too literal, and this was far from what she had imagined. Adina let a small sigh escape her lips as several dirty hands slipped cred-notes into the sides of her thong-bikini. A Devaronian's hand grazed her hip, and rested a moment too long on her buttock. She quickly shifted her pointed heel so that it found the center of his other palm. He cried out and fell back into his seat as she flashed a sly smirk. _I wonder what Master would think of all this_…

Or Baanah and Sarai had managed to evade the Republic forces, which was not an easy task, for the better part of an hour. The clones knew Master Baanah and her Padawan still lived, and wouldn't be satisfied until they saw the bodies. Slowly, Ora and Sarai had made their way to the Ithorian controlled sector, where they blended in with the mixed multitude of species that dwelled there. Things were going well, until they ran into a patrol that had been assigned to sweep the crowds. Before the squad leader had positively identified them, they launched their attack, cutting the small group to pieces before any civilians were harmed. A security camera had taped the brief altercation, and their whereabouts were broadcast to every clone in the area. Several squads descended upon them in a flash. Somehow, they were able to cut a path through the enemy… before Master Baanah caught a bolt to the upper back.

In an instant, she was on the ground, cringing from the immense pain of the wound burned into her torso. Sarai had tried to stop and help, but her master had shoved her with assistance from the Force into a nearby alley. In one last act of defiance, Master Baanah had used the Force to pull the pins from the special grenades attached at the back of every clone trooper's belt, creating a massive explosion that consumed every trooper in the area. Sarai felt her Master join the Force, burning brighter than the blast had. Fighting back tears, she made her get-away before the smoke had cleared, and was thus not detected by any roving security cams or droids. From there, she used a false ID from an old mission and managed to get off planet aboard a public transport cruiser. Her own death had been reported as having taken place in her Master's blaze of martyrdom, so the newly created Empire wasn't actively searching for her… at least for now. Sarai had used her remaining credits to get to Nar Shaada, deep within the Hutt controlled part of space, where she hoped she would never be discovered.

A grizzled Gran motioned her over with a meaty fist full of cred-notes. She hugged her breasts together and reached out to stroke beneath his chin with her index finger. After handing her the creds, he promptly blew a puff of smoke from his hooka almost directly into her face. She exhaled sharply and stomped, albeit gracefully, back to the center of the stage. The blue Twi'lek dancer came over to her and they danced with one another, to the delight of the crowd. Sarai had once known a Twi'lek Jedi named Aayla Secura, whom she had heard was on the planet Felucia at the end of the war. Sarai wondered if she had somehow survived the treachery of her own troops…

Sarai had always been very involved in dancing, especially in her youth at the Temple. To her, it provided a way to simply release herself into the Living Force and flow along with its currents. Her style of combat was also very fluid and elegant as a result. On many missions with Master Baanah, she would often lose herself in the moment, giving into the Living Force to such an extent that her Master had to chide her for being _too_ in tune with the ebb and flow of the Force. All that mattered during those moments was the footwork of the dance at hand, how to perform the most sinuous attack and counterattacks. This left her oblivious to sudden outside influence, from those not directly involved in her 'dance.' Ever since the day her Master was slain, though, she had been able to find the proper balance between the two extremes. Although some might attribute it to a sudden gain in maturity, Sarai felt that she had suddenly lost a portion of her connection to the Living Force, and thus was prevented from reaching such a state as she once had. While this was particularly useful for her current life, she had a deep longing in her heart to once again be able to feel that complete immersion within the Force.

The music pumped out its ending crescendo, and Adina and her cohort struck a final pose for the audience. As soon as the lights dimmed, Adina raced to the back of the stage into the dressing area and threw her cloak over her shoulders to cover up. Even though she'd had this gig for several months now, she knew she would never get used to the idea. At the very least though, she made enough money to survive adequately, and she honestly doubted anyone would ever really suspect a Jedi of turning into a night-club dancer. These factors helped balance out the depravity she had to expose herself to on a nightly basis in order to survive. Which is what she really was doing… simply surviving. When the entire galaxy has a price on your head, you take what you can get.

Adina affixed her chrono to her arm and noticed it was well past midnight. She threw on some loose slacks and her boots, close up her small locker and headed out the back door into the night. On her way to her apartment, she stopped by an all-night market and bought a few things to eat with her earnings. She munched a grain-bar as she mounted the stairs, and promptly flung her purchases across the counter before flopping onto her sleep-couch. Adina rubbed her over-tired eyes, and hoped that for once, the nightmares would allow her one full night's worth of rest. Staring at the darkness of the ceiling, she thought of old friends and times gone by, as sleep slowly enveloped her.


	2. Breathing

**In The Shadows of An Empire.**

Shaa Koon knows better than anyone the treachery that consumed the Jedi Temple that fateful day. _She was there_. What she witnessed has left her permanently scarred, both mentally _and_ physically. Now, she often wonders just what was so special about her that merited her survival, when so many others who had achieved great accomplishments in their lives as Jedi, such as her uncle, had perished. After escaping from Coruscant, she learned of Plo Koon's death in the cockpit of his star-fighter, a victim of "friendly" fire. In reality, he had been blasted from behind by his own wingmen, who of course, were clone pilots that had received the command to wipe out all their Jedi generals.

Shaa inhales deeply through her life-giving breathing mask. Convulsions overcome her as her body is wracked with heavy coughing, and the pain in her chest surfaces again to torment her. This is the price she had to pay in exchange for continued existence. To tell the story of her defective lungs requires having to relive the traumatic time once again…

It was late at night, and Kel Dorian Jedi Knight Shaa Koon couldn't sleep. Something was going on, something serious. Events were unfolding in favor of the Republic, and the war was nearing its end. Or so it seemed. Shaa lay on her back in her modest quarters, trying hard to get some rest. She was one of the few Jedi Knights and Masters still left in the massive Temple, tending to the needs of the younglings and basically 'holding down the fort' until the great Masters, like Yoda, Obi-Wan Kenobi and her uncle returned.

Over the past few days, Shaa had noticed a great feeling of unease percolating throughout the winding corridors of the ancient Temple, particularly around the room that housed the meeting place of the Jedi High Council. Something big was about to happen, and the Council was involved. Rumors were spreading about a major move by the remaining Council members against the Supreme Chancellor. Shaa had noticed an increasing air of coolness in the way Palpatine had been interacting with the Jedi, but she never really believed that Master Windu and the others would take action. What kind of threat did an old politician pose against the great Jedi Order anyway?

Shaa sighed and sat up. Her gaze drifted over to the empty sleep-couch across the room, which belonged to the Mon Calamari Jedi Knight Min Ro. Shaa and Min had been younglings together and had shared many adventures during their Padawan apprenticeships. Almost a year ago she had been called to serve as a general for the Republic's Army back on her home planet of Mon Calamari to put down the Quarren Separatist faction. Although Min had sent a few scattered holo messages to ask how things were going, they rarely had any opportunity for any face-to-face conversations which they had enjoyed before the war. Shaa sighed, concerned how her friend was doing at this moment, so far away…

Sleep wasn't coming, that much was clear, so Shaa decided to take a walk in hopes that she might become drowsy and finally be able to retire. There was definitely something unusual going on… something almost palpable in the Force… but Shaa couldn't quite put her finger on what it was. The younglings had been particularly restless this evening, and it was difficult getting them to settle in for the night. She, Shaak Ti, and the others in charge of watching over the young ones had bustled about for almost two hours, making sure everyone got to bed. It was always the youngest Jedi that were the most perceptive to minute variations within the currents of the Force. Shaak Ti and Shaa had exchanged glances during their ordeal, silently acknowledging the presence of some overbearing ambiance that disturbed their young charges. Of course, they buried any concern they had so as not to worry the children. After the last youngling had been tucked in, they bid one another 'goodnight,' hoping that the ominous sensation they felt wouldn't come to bear fruit.

The Jedi Temple was so peaceful at this hour. Many Jedi of all ages and experiences would often stroll the vast halls of the Jedi Temple at night to soothe their minds and find inner peace when something troubled them. The main lights were extinguished, and the small wall mounted luminescent sources would create a calming glow that illuminated the corridors. Often enough, this was the best time of the day, especially when Shaa bumped into old friends of hers she had not seen for many cycles. The atmosphere provided the opportunity to get reacquainted and rekindle those friendships, that, due to the nature of their lives as Jedi, often created distance between them. As many fond memories as Shaa had of her walks, she knew that such an occurrence wasn't going happen this time.

Her meandering led her to the wing where the younglings lived. As she had feared, each of the young minds were not slumbering in their usual comfort. They also knew, and were afraid. She peaked in one of the rooms and saw the occupants fitfully tossing and turning. Shaa entered and prepared to soothe them with Force-induced techniques Master Ti had taught her. Suddenly, a flash of the Dark Side struck her as if someone had physically slapped her across the face. What could cause such a surge in the Dark Side of the Force? Unless…

Shaa Koon's deep brooding was interrupted by a scream. A second young voice shrieked, and then another. The children were having simultaneous nightmares, she realized. Quickly, she rushed to the side of the youngling nearest her, a boy named Yosh, and gently nudged him awake. Shaa struggled to make herself heard above the cries.

"What's wrong? What do you see?" Yosh's eyes fluttered open upon hearing her voice, and he sat up with a jolt.

"Darkness…" he choked out in a fearful tone. At that moment, Shaak Ti burst into the room, the other guardians weaved back and forth behind her in the hallway, most still in their sleepwear, trying to calm the younglings.

"Shaa, something is horribly wrong. Masters Windu, Tiin, Kolar, and Fisto have failed to return from their mission to apprehend the Chancellor."

"Apprehend the Chancellor?" Shaa gasped.

"Yes. Master Kenobi has killed General Grievous, and the time for the end of the war has come. Unfortunately, the Supreme Chancellor has not been… cooperative, compelling the Council to step in. However, I fear things have not gone well…" Unexpectedly, the sound of an explosion reverberated down the passageway. Whie, one of the unfortunate young Padawans left Masterless by the war, ran into the room.

"Masters, the Temple is under Attack! Clone Troopers have blown through the main entrance and murdered the Jedi gatekeepers!" He exclaimed in between breaths.

"This is an emergency! We must gather the younglings and prepare to defend ourselves!" Master Ti turned and shouted orders to the guardians in the hallway.

"Master Ti, what are we going to do?" Shaa said after rousing Yosh and his roommate.

"We'll have to split up in several groups. I hate to say it, but I'd rather afford one group a chance to survive than being forced into a futile last stand and lose them all," she replied with a heavy heart. Shaa knew it hurt Shaak Ti immensely to have to say such things, but they both knew it was the best strategy in this dire situation. In a few moments, the guardians had assembled all the younglings in the ante-room to their dormitories. Shaa, Whie, and Shaak Ti joined them to divide the children and plan out their course of action. There were to be three groups, one to head to the Council Chamber, one to the Room of a Thousand Fountains, and one to the Library.

"Everyone, get to your sanctuaries! May the Force be with us all…" Master Ti said meekly.

Shaa was in the second group. She quickly gathered her charges, along with Whie and two guardians, and set out for their destination. Shaa heard the echoes of blaster fire coming from behind them, and they increased their pace. Finally, through what Shaa knew could only have been the will of the Force, they reached their place of refuge. The waters of the Room of a Thousand Fountains flowed and bubbled as it always had, but somehow it didn't seem so soothing now…

"Jam the doors!" Gho Cunon, the Tibrian guardian, ordered. Shaa, Whie, and Juu Dah, the other guardian assigned to their group, quickly complied. Now they had to sit and wait... Juu's comlink received a message. He activated it, turning the broadcast mode on.

"The library has been breached! I repeat, the library has been breached!" A tender, womanly voice cried. Shaa knew it was Master Jocasta Nu. As often as she had heard Master Nu scold a young Padawan, she had never really heard her yell this way before. Shaa wasn't even sure Master Nu even carried a lightsaber any more, but fervently hoped that she had hers available now… Shaa looked toward the others and saw their sword hands instinctively hovering above their lightsaber hilts. They all wanted to go and rescue those trapped in the library, but knew it would be to no avail. Their task was to protect the youngling assigned to them; abandoning their charges to go out and face certain death would be to no avail. Yet, the idea still pervaded their thoughts.

Shaa noticed Whie had a glazed look on his face. His eyes were focused on something distant, as if he were receiving a vision of the future. There were those who said that he had the abilities to receive visions of portents to come. What Shaa now saw rejected any doubts she may have had about the boy and his special abilities. She anxiously approached him.

"Whie, what is it? What lies ahead for us?" He stood motionless for a few moments more, then snapped back into full consciousness. His gaze narrowed on her alien features.

"We will not survive this night…" A tear rolled down his cheek. "None of us." Shaa felt as though someone had ripped out her insides. Nearby, some of the younglings began to whimper in fright. This couldn't be the end… could it?

"Listen, everyone!" Juu moved to the front of the collection of younglings. "As bleak as the times may appear, we have a duty to perform. We are Jedi! We must be brave and perform the will of the Force, whatever that may be," he paused and swallowed hard. "Each of us is a beacon of light, and we must burn our brightest, to push back the darkness…" He ignited his lightsaber, which blazed a brilliant azure. "Remember, we are Jedi!" Juu pumped his weapon in the air.

And then the doors were blown in. Juu spun on his heel, batting back laser bolts. Shaa watched in horror as he was struck in the shoulder, then the abdomen. He continued to parry incoming fire until a blast to his face silenced him forever. The younglings wailed. Some raised their own lightsabers, others ran for cover. Shaa's heart tore in half as she saw the young ones fall. Her emerald lightsaber was suddenly engaged in her hand, and Shaa didn't even remember activating it. It didn't matter. She dove forward, along with Gho and Whie. Their lightsabers blazed blue and green arcs through the air. Slicing and blocking, they made their way through the initial group of clone troopers that had crossed the threshold. Behind them, the remaining younglings clustered together in front of the Great Falls.

A hideously dark presence made itself known in the Force. Shaa tried to ignore it and focus on combating the innumerable clone troopers, but the aura began to fill her entire being with a cold fear. Then _he_ entered. _The dark one_. With ease, he parried Gho Cunon's attack and cut him down, severing his great reptilian head from his shoulders. His face was covered by his hood, but his eyes glowed visibly with a deep hatred. His attention focused on Shaa, and he raised a hand in her direction. Suddenly, she flew backward, crashing into the rocks at the base of the waterfall. The side of her head collided with an outcropping that jutted out, and her breath mask was torn from her face. Before she blacked out, Shaa Koon willed her body to shut down completely, to go into a Force coma. The last thing she saw was Whie leaping defiantly toward the fiend, his lightsaber raised above his head.

Shaa remembers waking up coughing. She has been doing so ever since. She had inhaled a breath of the oxygen laden air, an element poisonous to her species. Realizing her potentially fatal mistake, she emptied her lungs and infused her cells with enough energy to search for her mask. There it was, slightly crunched, but hopefully still functioning. She lifted it out of the puddle in which it lie and clipped it back over her nose and mouth. Respiring deeply, she surveyed the carnage around her.

_Bodies_. Bodies of children. _Everywhere_. She knew each of the blank little faces personally, intimately. They were her younger brothers and sisters. And now they were dead. Her vision misted over, and she vented her goggles of the Kel Dorian equivalent to human tears. Up until now, she had been ignoring the growing ache in her chest, but when she laid her eyes upon the body of poor Whie, she was hit with a fit of wheezing. She knelt next to his burned body. He had been cut across the torso, from hip to shoulder. Reverently, she closed his eyes for the last time. Something compelled her to reach across his corpse and retrieve his weapon. Standing, Shaa secured Whie's lightsaber on her belt, opposite her own on her right hip.

The question of escape was a complex one. Shaa knew that the Temple was almost certainly overrun with clone troopers, combing the vast edifice in search of any remaining Jedi. But she had to get out, somehow. She knew that the Force obviously willed her to be the sole survivor of the assault for a reason – one that as of yet was not clear – but she was not about to squander this opportunity she had been given. A thought occurred to her. The hangar. Although they had certainly inspected the multitude of craft located there, she might be able to sneak about one of the small ships and make her getaway. Obviously, a single ship launching would arouse the ire of the occupying troops. But, what if a large number of the starfighters launched at the same time? It sounded like a gamble worth taking. She would reach the loading area via the system of air ducts, and hopefully be able to procure a ship from there. Mind firmly set on the task at hand, Shaa bounded the small cliffs up to the top of the waterfall, almost slipping as she neared the peak. Lifting the hatch to the ventilation duct, she took one last mournful look over her shoulder at the lifeless Jedi below her. Coughing violently, she took a brief moment to compose herself and went in.

Traveling through the tubes of the ventilation system proved to be easier than she thought. Shaa knew approximately where she was heading, which helped greatly. The only major obstacle thus far was a drop straight down to reach the lower levels. She had secured herself with her liquid cable launcher and carefully lowered herself down until she reached the correct level, and swung onto that duct. Finally, she arrived, and carefully unlatched the vent leading to one of the docking bays. Silently, she dropped to the floor. She made her way toward the multicolored ships, careful to monitor the activity of the patrol stationed at the entrance from the Temple into the loading area. She quietly climbed aboard an orange Jedi Starfighter, and began conversing with her R2 unit, designated R2-T3. She inputted an emergency scramble code, telling the droid to transmit the signal to all the others. One by one, each droid blinked to life, their domes whirring back and forth as they communicated. Of course, they were all confused concerning the unusual procedure, but complied when she sent out the message that the situation was urgent.

Soon, all the engines were warming up, preparing for an emergency launch. As expected, the clones noticed that something was amiss, and two marched into the hangar to investigate. They were caught in the back draft from the engines of the fighter next to Shaa's. Their armor scorched black and they were flung into the nearby wall. Blue laser blasts began to bounce across the shields of the ships. More clone troopers began pouring through the hangar doors and opening fire upon the disturbance. Simultaneously, the starfighters lifted from their docking ports and jetted toward the opened hangar doors. Shaa remained toward the center of the group for protection. Immediately upon their exit, they were fired upon by clone gunships that had been in the area. A handful was shot down during the daring escape through the Coruscant skies. Bursting through the outer atmosphere, Shaa breathed a shaky sigh of relief. Fortunately, the Force was with her, and the hyperspace docks were unguarded. However, the clone fighters were hot in pursuit, so little time was afforded to proper procedure in attaching the giant hyperspace rings.

Of the roughly two dozen ships that had started off with her daring stunt, only eight made it to the orbiting pen. A pair of those remaining exploded when one's hyperspace ring was hit by missile fire, sending its wreckage careening into the second just as it was about to moor. The others managed to successfully find berth in their hyperspace rings, and not a moment too soon. Shaa's sensory board went into overload when several Vindicator Class cruisers appeared over the horizon, quickly approaching her position. She managed to fire off random coordinates via her R2 unit to the other droid piloted starships, and Shaa pulled back on the lever, launching the ragtag group into hyperspace. Brilliant star streaks filled the view of her cockpit, and Shaa Koon, the sole survivor of the Jedi massacre of Coruscant collapsed against her crash webbing, overcome with shock and exhaustion.

_To Be Continued…_


	3. Old Pablo

**In The Shadows of An Empire.**

Dizziness… and utter confusion… that's all he feels now. Walking, or actually stumbling down the crowded street, he lifts a hand to the side of his face. The flashing neon signs from all the clubs and hangouts make his eyes burn. He squints to block out some of the visual pollution. Strange pain aches all around his cranium, and he's not sure why. Somehow, it seems as though the reality of his existence as he now experiences is… wrong… misguided, perhaps. _Oh no_, he thinks, as his balance begins to waver again. He tries to stay upright, but standing straight worsens his condition.

_There_, he sees the corner of a building, the perfect spot to regain his composure. As he nears the greasy diner, his feet become heavy, and he flails his arms to regain his footing. Unfortunately, his efforts fail, and he half-summersaults into the row of refuse receptacles in the alley. He lies there for a moment, a heap of misguided limbs. Groaning, he manages to sit up, and the peel from some exotic fruit slides off his eyestalk, leaving a slimy residue.

A passerby notices the sad sight and begins to approach. Mistaking him for a beggar, the man flips a cred chip in his direction. Of course, he never noticed the stranger looming nearby, and the chip ricochets off his forehead with a small _tunk_ sound. His large head jerks back as the money comes to rest in the tattered robes bunched up in his lap. A long, exasperated sigh escapes his dry lips, and the charitable person wonders for a moment if the suffering creature has simply died then and there. He cautiously reaches over and takes his creds back before the other sentient even realizes what just occurred. Popping the chip into a breast pocket, he continues on his way.

This is the tale of Old Pablo.

Old Pablo walks the filthy alleys a broken man. No one really talks to him, or even takes notice when he staggers into their presence, but then again, why would they? What's so unusual about an Ongree tripping over his own bow-legged feet as if he were perpetually inebriated? On the lower levels of Coruscant in the entertainment district, such a sight is commonplace. Old Pablo, however, has a story unlike any other beggar or homeless sentient.

Old Pablo was once Jedi Master Pablo Jill. He participated in the ruinous rescue on Geonosis, where many of his comrades were killed. Following that debacle, he had spent time as a general on several worlds for the duration of the Clone Wars, Ando, Clackdor VII, and most recently, Corellia. It was there that he and Jedi Master Nejaa Halcyon had pushed back the Separatist invaders in a series of short battles that lasted a matter of weeks. The key to their success was the cooperation and support of the local police agents, the Corellian Security Force, or CorSec for short. It was also during one such excursion that Master Halcyon tragically became one with the Force, and Pablo himself was injured. Upon handing over the reins of the troops after Nejaa's funeral, he escorted Halcyon's strange, furry companion, Elegos Ak'la, back to Coruscant. He had noticed the Camaasi intensely discussing some important matter with a CorSec officer named Hal Horn… something about a child, perhaps one left as an orphan as a result of the fighting…

Pablo was glad to get back to Coruscant to heal his injuries and have some down time before he was sent back into the field. He had seen his share of horrors, betrayals, and had said a final farewell to too many friends already. In addition, he looked forward to being able to physically attend a meeting of the Jedi High Council. During his campaigns, he had needed to report via a holographic transmitter, which created a blue ghost-like version of himself sitting in his appointed chair. Pablo felt that he needed few days to regain his composure, to clear his mind and find his inner peace, and then he would be ready to take command once again. However, such an opportunity never arose.

Events were transpiring swiftly, and the entire Galaxy was on its edge. A great change was about to overturn a thousand years of peace under the Republic… and replace it with a worse corruption than was ever known amongst the politicians of the Senate. Pablo Jill, being a member of the Jedi Council, knew full well that the Supreme Chancellor was under close observation, and his suspicious activities regarding the war would no longer be overlooked as typical political machinations. Something deeper and more sinister was pulling the strings behind the abundant facades that could be found at every turn of this war. Pablo suspected, as did the rest of his colleagues on the Council, that the Sith were involved. To what extent their dark influence had, no one was really sure. Certainly, no one expected what became the reality.

Mace Windu was preparing to make a move against the Chancellor, and Pablo had to turn down the opportunity to participate, still concerned with nursing his injuries. This turn of events ended up saving his life… in a sense. True, he didn't die at the hands of Palpatine upon his revelation as the hidden Sith lord, Darth Sidious. Masters Windu, Fisto, Tiin, and Kolar suffered that fate for their last efforts to preserve the decaying Republic. But Pablo hasn't been himself since that fateful night.

Pablo was one of the last two Council members still at the Jedi Temple when Darth Vader and his clone troopers launched their assault. No one was prepared for what happened, no one ever envisioned that the Chosen One would turn traitor. Pablo had met up with the group that was retreating to the Jedi Council chambers, and he decided to act as an added escort, ensuring they reached their destination. The majority of them never did. Pablo couldn't believe his own eyes when he saw _him_ stride down the hall, walking with a resolute dark confidence. Unflinching, he cut down a guardian… and then he began murdering the children...

Pablo charged the traitor, hoping to give the others a chance to get to their refuge. Clone troopers fell at his feet as he continued his approach. Nothing else mattered; it was his duty as a Jedi, let alone a member of the Council, to end this now. Something had gone horribly wrong. Pablo didn't understand how the Chosen One could turn to the Dark Side, and he had no time to meditate on the matter. Giving himself fully to the Force, his blue blade crossed with the traitor's. After trading blows for a few moments, Pablo came to the realization that he was no match… and he finally saw why this boy was so dangerous. Vader focused his intense gaze on Pablo, and lifted his hand. A wave concentrated dark energy slammed in Pablo, sending his mind reeling. Before he could clear his thoughts, a second surge overwhelmed him, and he lost control of his faculties. A swift boot to the jaw sent him sprawling over the edge of the banister, and he fell dozens of meters to the stone floor below.

Lying there, in a spreading pool of his own bodily fluids, Pablo, or what was left of him, lost consciousness. The Jedi that he once was had been obliterated from his being. Jedi Master Pablo Jill was no more. He had awakened amid a pile of bodies scheduled for disposal. Shakily, he had simply walked past the mindless warehouse droids that were lifting the corpses and placing them in the industrial furnace nearby. His presence barely registered on their scanners as being alive, and he was ignored. He has been wafting about ever since.

The Ongree now known as Old Pablo rises to his feet with support from a waste canister. Refuse falls from his dirty tunic and plops to the ground. Slowly, he glances around, taking in his surroundings. It all seems so familiar, yet so alien. It's always like that now. Gingerly, he rubs the back of his head, and staggers forward into the night.


End file.
